Alternate Existence
by MelodyAnne
Summary: She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn’t want to be an agent. She didn’t want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn’t want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.[COMPLETE]
1. Lost You

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 1: Lost You

A/N: Irina never faked her death, she and Jack divorced. Because I need Sydney to have a clearer memory of her father in this fic than she does of her mother in the show, Sydney was eight when she and Irina left LA.

* * *

Eight years old

Dear Diary,

Mommy says we have to move away. She said my daddy died so we have to go away. I'm scared. She says we're going all the way to new york. That's a long way from home. We're on the plane now.

I know mommy must feel real sad. Mommy and daddy yelled a lot before he died. I know I heard daddy say divorce a lot. One time mommy told him to keep his voice down and he could divorce her all he wants because she'd still get what he wanted most. She meant me. I feel bad for daddy.

Mommy told me I should be excited. I'm going to a city most people dream of seeing. I get to live there. She doesn't act very sad, but that's just cause she's indenial. I heared that word in a movie once. It means when you say one thing, but your really pretending your somewhere else. I think that's it.

Mommy made me leave all my stuff, cept for my favorite stuffed rabbit I had for ever and the special alice in wonder land she gived me for Christmas cause she said all of that stuff was from our old life and we had new stuff to have a new life. Somethin like that. She said alot of stuff. That's okay. I know its just the indenial. I got all the really important stuff anyway.

Ten years old

Jeffrey Lexington moved in the empty apartment on the second floor last week. He'd in my class at school, and he's really upset because his dad made him move here right after his mom died. He was really nice for a boy and we sat together at lunch because Jessica stayed home sick, so I wouldn't have had anybody to sit with.

I found out we lived in the same apartments because he said he saw me waiting for the bus, but he was late and ha hadn't ever lived in a big city before so his dad took him to school. I said he could tell his dad I went to the same school so if he wanted he could ride the bus and I'd make sure he got to school without getting lost or kidnapped or nothing.

Mom made me take the laundry down to the basement (that's where the washing machines are) to wash it later, and Jeffrey was down there. He didn't have any clothes or anything with him so I asked what was he doing down there and he turned around like he hadn't heard me before and he looked like he was about to cry. I hate it when people cry. So he told me when I asked him what was wrong his mom died, and his dad made them move, but then someone yelled down the stairs and said is anybody down there and Jeffrey yelled back that he was coming. He still looked upset so I told him real quick that my daddy had died two years ago right before we moved here, and we could talk later if he wanted, and that he knew my apartment number so he could call or whatever. He said okay and then he ran up the stairs. I guess it was his dad that yelled, but Jeffrey got mad, and the man just sounded like he was worried.

Well, Jeffrey called me late at night, after it was dark and I was supposed to be asleep. I picked up the phone before Mom heard it, and he asked if I could talk, cause he couldn't sleep, so we met down in the basement. We talked for a couple of hours till neither one of us could hardly keep our eyes open, and I got back in bed right before Mom came and checked on me. I pretended to be asleep. She said she knew I'd been out of bed, she just hadn't caught me, but she'd catch me alter if I did it again. I told Jeffrey today, and he thought it was funny. We made it up as our secret password, so if one of us called the other and our parent picked up the phone we could just tell them to say catch you later and the other would know what we wanted. Mom still hasn't caught me.

Sixteen years old

Sometimes I am just so glad Jeffrey is around. Jessie's great and all, but she's a little extreme. Like that whole guy thing. Mark was horrible, but all guys aren't. she's just got to get over it. She's either extremely happy, or extremely mad, or some other extreme. I love her and all, she's my best friend, but sometimes I just need Jeffrey's reserved nature to balance her out. She's just a little much sometimes is all I'm saying.

But I couldn't live without Jessie. Jeffrey absolutely refuses to go to the mall with me and Jessie on the weekend because he says he can't take more than an hour there with us at a time. Jessie and I go and get lost in the mall. It's just relaxing.

Even I get tired of the mall, though. It's like my friends are the two extremes, and I'm caught somewhere in the middle.

The rumors have started up again. The ones about me and Jeffrey? They start every year. I hardly notice any more, but it still bugs Jeffrey. I figure people are going to say what they're going to say. I give up. I'm just not telling Jeffrey. He hates the stupid rumors, mainly because he knows that things that people pick up on to substantiate their rumors are meaningless, unconscious little gestures that we never even think about.

* * *

Sydney dodged through the hall, trying to keep pace with Jessica Presley's quick movements. Jessie's generally slight form allowed her to move much through the crowded halls much easier than her friends could. Sydney could just see her blonde head bob into view once in a while, and she had no idea if Jeffrey Lexington was still behind her or not.

Lunch should be the easyperiod, yet they had to dodge through two floors and nearly two thousand people just to get to the cafeteria.

"What's the point?" Jeffrey muttered behind her suddenly. He slowed and put a restraining hand on her shoulder. "All the tables will be taken by the time we get there anyway, and Jessie's long gone."

"I thought she promised to wait up," Sydney commented, shaking her head and falling comfortably into step with her friend.

Being as tall and gangly as she was, Sydney was almost as tall as Jeffrey. She grinned when she noticed he'd cut his light brown hair again. She'd asked him once why he couldn't let it grow out a little so it'd be manageable, but he'd protested that the spiky mess was his trademark. Well, not in so many words. _Skinny little dork_, she thought affectionately.

"Look," Jeffrey said when the finally reached the first floor. "There's Jess."

Yep, there she was all right. Standing outside the cafeteria while good-looking-and-I-know-it football star Bobby Ryan harassed her.

"Can't the guy take a hint?" Jeffrey muttered. "Jess has already turned him down, what, four dates?"

"Five," Sydney responded. "I know it would be un-Jessie-like to tell him to screw off, but that's what it's gonna take to get rid of this guy."

Jessie laughed, her blue eyes sparkling and her short blonde hair slipping out from behind her ears to frame her face. Sydney wondered again that someone so drop dead gorgeous could refuse to date; she'd kill for Jessie's eyes. And it wasn't just Bobby, it was all guys. The boys practically fell drooling at Jessie's feet. Sure, she'd made a mistake that one time with that guy Mark, but she'd only been thirteen, he'd been two years older, and it had always sounded that Mark had taken advantage of Jessie. All the same, Jessie had sworn off all men. Except Jeffrey of course. He was just…well, he was just Jeffrey.

"Hey, Jessie," Sydney called out. "We lost you, girl!"

Bobby stepped back, allowing Jessie to escape. She threw Sydney a grateful look.

"I'll see you around, Bobby," she called over her shoulder as she high-tailed it to where Sydney and Jeffrey waited.

"What about Friday?" Bobby called.

"I told you I can't go anywhere after the game, especially not to a party!" Jessie yelled, exasperated.

They ducked into the cafeteria before Bobby could respond. Jeffrey started laughing, and Jessie threw him a dangerous look.

"And just what is so funny?" she demanded, poking him in the chest with her finger. She had to tilt her chin up to look him in the eye.

"That's what you get for taking off so quick after lit," he laughed. "If you could waste a little more time, you wouldn't be standing up here all alone and giving jerks like Bobby an open invitation to talk to you."

"Hey, I was _waiting_ for _you_," she snapped.

"Come on, guys," Sydney broke in. "Jessie, you know he's just kidding. You're just going to have to be as mean to Bobby as you are to Jeffrey."

"I'm not mean to Jeffrey," Jessie argued.

Jeffrey opened his mouth, then shut it.

Jessie gave him another look.

"Hey," he said quickly, holding up his hands stop-sign fashion. "I don't want to say anything to get me smacked."

"I have never smacked you!" Jessie protested.

"And I want to keep it that way," he added.

They chatted with other people in the lunch line, then went outside to eat. As predicted, all the tables were taken, as was the stone edge along the planter in the center of the school yard. The small patch of grass was the only green you could see within the encasement of skyscrapers, so most of the time they didn't mind sitting there anyway.

Taking up their usual spot against the wall of the brick school building, the three balanced their trays on their laps.

"This is supposed to be chicken, right?" Jessie asked.

"I think so," Jeffrey muttered. "You know what? I got my license _two weeks _ago, and my dad still won't let me drive."

"Seriously? I always thought he'd be cool about it," Sydney said. "I'll be able to get my license in a couple of months, but my mom says she's not going to let me get them for at least a year."

"Your mom's usually pretty cool, too," Jessie said. "I mean, she lets you stay alone and she doesn't really care if we're all over there or not when she's gone."

Sydney shrugged, stuffing a piece of bread into her mouth as she did.

"Mom's been weird lately. Like, this morning, she said I have to come straight home from school, because he has to _talk _to me." Sydney rolled her eyes. "She had this look, almost like she did when I was ten and she thought she had to tell me about sex and stuff, you know?"

Jeffrey looked concerned, but he tried to hide it.

"You're not worried? I mean, you don't have any idea what its about?" he asked.

Sydney shrugged again.

"Probably just something stupid. I just have to pretend to care for about an hour, then I'm free. The rest of the evening will be mine," she said nonchalantly.

"Well…call me when you can, okay?"

"Jeffrey, chill," Jessie ordered. "You're going to freak her out."

"And you're not?"

"No, I'm telling _you _not to."

"Guys, I'm telling you, it won't _really_ be anything major. Mom just freaks out about stuff."

* * *

Sydney walked into the third floor apartment she and her mother lived in fully prepared to dump her books on the floor when she saw the man sitting on the couch and checked her actions. She stacked them neatly on the table instead. Her mother yelled at her constantly for leaving her stuff in the entryway floor anyway.

"Mr. Casinou," Sydney said, forcing a smile for the man her mother worked for. She did accounting work, mostly for Mr. Casinou, and he flew her to kingdom come and back to do work for him. Why he couldn't just have any documents he needed faxed to her mother she'd never know.

"Sydney." Casinou had a cocky kind of smile that always scared Sydney just a little, though she'd never admit it. "Your mother told you she had to speak with you today, no?" And his Russian accent almost made him seem otherworldly.

"Yes, sir." How did he know, and what did he care? The man was just creepy.

Her mother came out of her bedroom then, and she and Casinou exchanged looks.

"Well, I'll be going, and let you tell her," Casinou said to Laura Bristow. "I'll be waiting," he added.

Sydney thought it strange that he didn't say where or why; apparently her mother knew already, because she didn't ask. Sydney looked expectantly at her, but her mother didn't explain.

"Sit down, Sydney," Laura said in a tone Sydney had never heard her mother use before. She complied immediately.

"Mom, what's wrong?" she asked quickly, suddenly afraid Jeffrey had been right.

"Sydney, honey, I don't know how else to say this but…I'm not who you think I am."

* * *

Dun-dun-duuuun…And here we have it! Poor Syd is about to get caught up in something she can't possibly understand, and all Irina can say is "I'm not who you think I am." Review, please! I'm not posting the next chapter until I get at least five reviews! 


	2. Ask No Questions

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 2: Ask No Questions

A/N: I've changed Khasinau's name's spelling in here, as it was brought to my attention that I'd spelled it wrong! I fixed the first chapter, too. If you catch a missed correction, feel free to point it out.

A/N: Okay, I'm pretty sure there is at least one inconsistency in this story, if not specifically this chapter, but I can't find it. So, if you find something that doesn't quite fit with something else I've said, lemme know, could ya? I'd really appreciate it!

* * *

Sydney sat stunned as the limo pulled out of the parking garage. Mr. Casinou had been waiting, just as he'd said. 

Her mother was a _spy_. She wasn't an accountant, she was a spy. For a government agency no one was supposed to know about. That way why, her mother had said, she could never tell anybody. Mr. Casinou had only insisted that she tell Sydney because he hoped to recruit Sydney to work for them when she was old enough. They'd recruited some as young as eighteen, she'd told Sydney to get her interest.

Laura Bristow was a government spy.

She went by a different name at work, an alias, she said. Irina Derevko. That was to protect her anonymity, and Sydney's. Sydney had to remember never to call her mother Laura Bristow in front of her colleagues; she was Irina Derevko.

And she, Casinou was explaining, would not be Sydney Bristow.

"You will answer only to Angelina Derevko," Casinou said in his heavy accent. 'You are Irina's daughter, you tell no one anything else. You ask no questions. You do what I tell you. Understood, Angelina?"

Sydney took a moment to realize he was speaking to her still.

"Yes, sir," she answered quickly.

Casinou smiled, and despite the knowledge that he was a good guy, he looked distinctly evil to Sydney.

"There, now, we're going to get along just fine, Angelina," Casinou said softly, and his voice sent a chill up Sydney's spine. But she didn't let it show.

She'd already learned the most important lesson about her mother's world, and she would soon come to apply it to every one of the operatives of the KGB: only let them see what you want them to see.

Casinou saw a defiant teenage girl with a lot of spunk.

* * *

The building looked innocent enough, but Sydney knew now that it was only a cover. She'd been by the Alderidge Bank a few times, but she'd never known it was where Mr. Casinou worked. Now she knew. 

The bank, as far as she could tell, was fully operational. But she and Irina Derevko and Casinou got into an elevator marked Authorized Personnel Only, and rode down to a sublevel not even acknowledged by a button. They had to be three of four floors underground.

When the elevator doors opened, first Casinou and then her mother stepped up to allow a red light to shine in their eyes, then Casinou pressed a code into a security pad.

"Retina scan," Laura Bristow told her daughter. "It's like a fingerprint. You'll be scanned into the system later, no doubt."

Sydney only nodded.

Sydney and her mother followed Casinou to his office and sat down in front of his desk. He remained standing. A few moments later a man in his early thirties stepped in and closed the door.

"This is Agent Denosivich, Angelina," Casinou said. He seemed to repeat her alias every time he spoke to her as if afraid she'd forget it. "You'll go with him and do as he says. He'll explain to you the rules here."

Sydney looked to her mother. She nodded.

"Go. You'll be fine," she assured.

Sydney, none too happy, rose and followed Calvin Denosivich.

He led her through a maze of halls, into a part of the building that finally _looked_ like a basement.

"This is our training area," Agent Denosivich said easily, a crooked and _un_easy grin on his face. Sydney wondered distantly if it was she that made him nervous. May be he just didn't like kids. "I don't know if anyone's told you, but Casinou hopes to have you prepared to go operational by the time you're eighteen." He looked at her, concern prominent in his deep blue eyes. "You're what? Fourteen?"

"Sixteen," Sydney said, an edge to her voice.

Denosivich looked vaguely surprised. He wasn't nervous, Sydney realized. He was worried. Something about her, like he didn't want her here.

"Well, anyway, I have to give you a rundown of the rules here, then we're going to do a little introductory training. Novice stuff, just to see where to start with you. Then we'll scan you into the system so nobody has to come get you everyday. You know what a retina scan is?"

"I know that's how you get past security around here," she replied impudently.

"Good enough. Now, basically, the most important rule here is secrecy. If you tell anyone about this place, or about the KGB, you endanger their life as well as your own. So just keep your mouth shut, all right?"

Sydney smirked and nodded.

"Next, you show up here when you're told, no arguments. If you skip out when Casinou says you be here to play with your friends, you are once again endangering their lives as well as your own. I'm not kidding."

Realization dawned, and Sydney's eyes flashed.

"Is that a threat?" she demanded.

"No," Denosivich said. "It's a warning. Security around here is tight, and if you screw up, security sector is not slow about cleaning up your mess," he said passionately.

His fervor confused Sydney. He made it sound like this security sector was horrible, like they'd kill people. The government didn't do stuff like that. Did they?

Sydney nodded slowly, fear taking hold now.

"So, basically, don't say anything to anybody, and follow orders."

"And if any of your friends ask you anything, lie your little ass off." Denosivich turned and opened a door, revealing a mat covered floor in an otherwise bare room. "One more thing," he said after a slight hesitation. "Never volunteer anything."

They walked in, and Denosivich turned around once more.

"Let's get started," he said, picking up one of the shields that her old karate teacher had used. She hadn't taken a class since she was ten.

Denosivich toed off his sneakers, telling Sydney to do the same, then they moved to the center of the room.

"How'd you end up here, anyway?" he asked. "Why does Casinou wasn't to train you so early?"

Sydney shrugged.

"I'm Derevko's daughter. Didn't everyone assume I'd join someday?"

Denosivich shook his head.

"Didn't even know she had a daughter," he said. "What's your name, kid?"

"Angelina," she answered promptly.

Denosivich grinned.

"All right, Angel, let's see what you've got. Kick me."

Sydney smirked and took up a stance; it was like riding a bike. Before Denosivich had time to register that her stance suggested she had a clue, her sock-clad foot hit the target and Denosivich went sprawling. Her kick was still powerful, even in jeans. She hadn't kept up the karate, but she'd kept in shape. Denosivich landed with a muffled "Oof!"

As he sat up and shook his head a little, as if clearing out cobwebs, Sydney stepped close and smirked down at him.

"I prefer Lina," she said simply. "You make Angel sound patronizing."

Denosivich accepted the hand she offered to help him up and laughed.

"I'll remember that," he said.

Sydney grinned. This guy wasn't so bad. She might just like him after all.

* * *

"You told me you wouldn't train her yet!" Irina snarled. "You said if I'd only _introduce_ her to this life, with the promise I'd see she had some training prior to her eighteenth birthday, you'd leave her alone." 

"Irina, you waited too long to tell her. You waited until the last minute. I'm not sure I can trust you to see to her training yourself. I'll see to it, and I'll know when she's ready. Perhaps I can make an agent out of her sooner that I'd hoped," Casinou suggested.

"She's not prepared for this," Irina argued. "She doesn't even know any Russian. And we both know that's the official business language within the agency."

Casinou shrugged.

"We'll make some exceptions and add that to our training agenda for her. She'd a promising prospect, I must say. She had your spirit, Irina. You were only too eager to join us when _you_ were sixteen."

"This is different. Sydney is different..."

"Angelina," Casinou prompted fiercely.

"She was _raised _here! To _Angelina,_ American views are right. I can't help that. To her, this is her home, not the enemy."

Casinou shrugged.

"So I'll add disillusioning _your _daughter to Denosivich's to-do list," he said austerely. "I want her, Irina, and I'll have her. There's nothing you can do about that."

* * *

So, what do you think of Denosivich? I'm aiming for a certain persona there, so if you could just tell me what I did get across, that'd be great. Review, please! I don't post without reviews... 


	3. Mockingbird

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 3: Mockingbird

A/N: Denosivich is _**NOT**_ supposed to be Sark-like, mountaineer143! (moaning mornfully) Where did I go wrong?!? Eyghon: You are genius, I love you! Princess Box: That's for the correction, I fixed it, (I think), but as a perfectionist, I'm inclined to point out that 'spelt' isn't a word. Spelled is. Sorry, couldn't help myself...

A/N: Ya'll are gonna love this, I think…

* * *

Denosivich performed the dead drop and dialed his handler to pick it up. Location 7. 

The note he'd left was simple.

Derevko has a daughter. She's being introduced to agency. I've been assigned as her handler. Angelina Derevko. -Mockingbird 71132984

His thoughts on the situation were far from simple. Lina was just a child. He would never be able to live with himself if he brought her into the KGB, a league of Russian spies. At the same time, eh couldn't refuse his assignment as her handler. At least that way he had some module of control and could protect her. God only knew he was the only one who could protect this innocent young American girl from the cutthroat Russians. She was too young for this, top agent's daughter or not.

But, for at least a year, he'd only be training her. Self-defense and martial arts, and Russian. Khasinau's orders. He wouldn't dare send a sixteen year old on an op. not even Khasinau had that much gall.

Denosivich knew what it was to be a child in the KGB, but it was different in Russia, where he'd been trained. Rougher.

His father had been KGB. So had his older brother. They were dead now. He had started taking karate classes when he was nine, with fifteen other boys. Together, they had advanced gradually, so that they were in so deep they couldn't get out before they realized it. Calvin had escaped Russia, but the KGB had soon set up US sectors. Khasinau had found him, and he'd pretended to rejoin willingly.

Calvin Denosivich had gone to the CIA, though. Calvin Denosivich had told them everything.

Calvin Denosivich was a double agent for the CIA inside the New York City sector of the Russian KGB.

* * *

Sydney huddled in her bed and tried not to cry. It was all so overwhelming, she couldn't sort any of it out. She was sure she'd be sick in the morning. And she was sore, on top of it all. Agent Denosivich had knocked her on her ass so many times it wasn't even funny. 

Just when she thought she couldn't stand it any more, her cell phone rang. Out of habit, she'd put it on the lowest setting and left it on her nightstand so, if anyone called, it wouldn't wake her mother.

"Hello?" she said softly.

"Syd?" Jeffrey's voice replied. "Are you okay? You never called. I was worried."

Sydney just knew she was going to break down, but she didn't. She was too scared.

"My mom just wants me to take these stupid self defense classes," she said carefully. After everything Denosivich had said, she didn't doubt for a second her phone was tapped.

"You sure you're okay? You sounded upset there for a second," Jeffrey said.

"Yeah, catch you later, okay?"

"Okay. Catch you later."

Sydney hung up and rolled stiffly out of bed to pull on jeans under her nightshirt. Then she proceeded to the basement of her apartment house, silently stealing down several flights of stairs.

Jeffrey was already sitting cross-legged on top of a dryer in the basement laundry room, wearing jeans and no shirt.

"Catch you later" had been their code phrase since they were ten and Jeffrey's mom had died. They had started sneaking out in the middle of the night to talk, and neither of their parents had been able to catch them. "Catch you later" was their joke.

"What's wrong, Syd?" Jeffrey asked, jumping down and giving her a quick hug.

Her nightshirt was hanging half off one shoulder, and as Jeffrey stepped back his hand grazed the bruise there that had begun forming the fifth or sixth time she'd landed o that shoulder. She winced, and Jeffrey saw the black and purple mark.

"God, Syd, how'd you do that?" he gasped, pulling her sleeve a little further down to get a look at the extent of the bruise.

"I…fell," she lied in a small voice. _Fifty of so times, _her conscience chided.

"Syd, seriously, what's going on?" Jeffrey asked, worry expressed clearly in his voice and his brown eyes.

Sydney couldn't help it; tears welled up in her eyes and spilled down her cheeks, but she couldn't speak. Agent Denosivich's words echoed in her ears.

You endanger their lives as well as your own…

Sydney abruptly broke out of Jeffrey's embrace, looking horrified.

"I can't do this. I shouldn't have come. I'm sorry," she sobbed, and turned to leave.

Jeffrey grabbed her arm and spun her around. She whimpered and for a second Jeffrey thought he'd grabbed her hurt arm, but he could clearly see the bruise on her other arm.

"Syd," Jeffrey said, softly. "Tell me what happened."

"I'm fine," she said quickly. "I'm sorry I got you down here for nothing."

"Damn it Sydney!" Jeffrey snapped. Eh never cursed; it got Sydney's attention. "Tell me what happened! Your whole back has to be bruised to hurt like that! You did _not_ just fall!"

"Okay," Sydney said carefully. "I fell _a lot_."

"_Sydney_…"

"_Okay_!" Sydney finally cried. "Those self defense classes I mentioned?" She exhaled a shaky breath, but she was in control now. The KGB had already taught her to be in control. "It wasn't just that. I mean, that's how I got hurt, but it's more than that."

And she told him everything, from her mother's revelation that she wasn't who Sydney believed her to be, all the way to Denosivich flipping her a zillion times--after she'd knocked him down--and telling her she had to come back tomorrow.

"It's not even that Agent Denosivich is trying to kill me," she finished. "It's Mr. Khasinau. He wants me to be a spy, by the time I'm eighteen. It's scary, and all the people, especially Khasinau, scare me. Denosivich even sounded like he was warning me." The words of warning came rushing back now. "Jeffrey, you can't tell anybody. I shouldn't have told you. God, now you're in trouble too!" she cried, tears filling her eyes again. "If they ever find out you know…"

"Syd." Jeffrey put a hand on her shoulder, careful not to hurt her. "I won't say anything else about it, I promise. Just know I'm here if you need to talk, okay?"

Sydney forced a smile.

"I know, and thanks." She paused. "But you can't even tell Jessie. I mean it."

"What are you going to tell her?"

Sydney looked away guiltily.

"Just that I'm taking self defense classes," she sighed.

"Hey."

She looked up.

"You better work on not looking so guilty. You really are doing this for her own good. I know you, Syd. Not much scares you. If this scares you, there's probably a good reason."

* * *

"We lost her, sir." 

Khasinau produced an amused smile.

"You did, did you? How did that happen?" Perhaps he'd gotten a hold of more than expected. Sydney Bristow might be worth something after all.

"She received a phone call on her cell phone from her friend, Jeffrey Lexington. They only talked a few minutes, and she told him she was taking self-defense classes. Then they hung up. They made no arrangements to meet, nor did she give any indication of movement. The camera happened to be scanning the other way, and we didn't know to activate the other cameras until she was past them."

Khasinau laughed.

"Beginners luck," he muttered. "You find her, or you know the consequences," he added aloud.

"Yes, sir."

* * *

Sydney finally crawled back into bed at nearly three AM. She was exhausted, and sore, but she slept like a baby until her alarm went off. 

Laura Bristow--she was Laura Bristow this morning, Sydney thought--stuck her head in and turned on the light.

"Get up, sleepyhead," she said loudly. "You can't be late or you'll miss the bus."

Sydney remained sprawled on her bed.

"I can't move," she groaned.

"You'll get over it faster if you move," Laura said.

"Mmm."

Sydney sat up for a moment, then sort of twisted to flop down with her head at the foot of the bed. She stared at the ceiling and noticed a round black spot. The light caught it just right, and it seemed to be moving. She remembered Denosivich saying she'd be watched closely.

Panic closing her throat, Sydney waited until the thing seemed to be aimed at the other side of the room, then dodged out, grabbing her clothes as she went. No way was she dressing in there.

School was hell. Every step made her whole body throb and ache, and Sydney wanted to just lay down and not move, but it hurt to lay on her back, too.

She sat on the edge of her seat in class because the back of the desk hurt her back to lean against it. In lit, the only class she and Jeffrey and Jessie all had together, Jessie noticed immediately. When the bell rang, Jessie came over to Sydney's desk instead of shooting out of the room as she usually did. Sydney moved slowly and deliberately, wincing when she slung the strap of her book bag over her shoulder.

"Syd, what happened to you?" Jessie asked quickly. "You act like you can hardly move."

Sydney forced a grin, reassured slightly by Jeffrey's presence.

"I'm just a little beat up," Sydney said softly, then forced herself to look Jessie in the eye. "My mom wants me to take these self defense classes. I started last night, and the guy teaching me seriously kicked my butt. He was making his point that I'm a rookie and he's in charge, and I'm got the bruises to prove it."

Jessie cringed dramatically.

"You mean like karate? We tried that already, remember? You quit when you broke your arm," she reminded.

"But I stuck it out for a year," Sydney said. "Just a little over eleven months longer than you."

"Hey," Jessie argued, holding up her hands. "I'm little, I break easily. Anyone in that class could have killed me."

"Anyone in that class could _still _break you, Jess, and you're a lot older than them," Jeffrey broke in.

"That's why I've got you, tough guy," Jessie said, elbowing Jeffrey playfully in the ribs. "So you can protect me from the big bad kindergarteners."

Sydney was quiet at lunch, and it was noticed. Jeffrey kept giving her concerned looks over Jessie's head whenever she looked away, but to Sydney's immense relief he kept his word. Jessie, however, had no idea why her friend was so silent.

"What _wrong _with you Sydney?" she finally asked after saying something to Sydney twice and getting no response.

Sydney blinked and looked up. She hated keeping secrets from her friend.

"I just don't feel like myself," she murmured. "May be I'm catching something."

Jessie leaned over and put her hand on Sydney's forehead.

"You don't feel feverish," she announced.

Sydney shrugged.

"I have another class after school today, anyway. I can't be sick," she said.

At one point, Jessie walked off to hunt down her partner for a science project, and Jeffrey took advantage of the pause.

"You sure you're okay?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm okay," Sydney said. After a moment she added, "It just makes me sick, you know? I've never kept anything from Jessie, and I hate it."

"I could tell her, then you…"

"No!" Sydney's hand grasped his arm tightly before she knew she'd moved. "Jeffrey, you _promised_. I love Jessie, but she couldn't handle this. You know she couldn't hide it."

"I don't think you're handling it too well, either," Jeffrey commented.

"I don't have a choice," Sydney said, letting go of his arm. "I have to handle it."

"You really have to go back today?"

"Yes. I'm scared of that creep Khasinau will do if I don't follow orders."

"You sound like you're already in."

"I'm in the system. The security system. I was scanned into the computer for a retina scan yesterday, so I can get into the facility myself."

"You never told me where it is."

"I know."

Then Jessie came back, and there was no more mention of spies of self-defense.

* * *

When Sydney got home, a shiver raced up her spine when she opened her front door. The cozy home she'd once known had all but disappeared, and what was left was cold and hard, and under watch. She hadn't even seen her mother but for a few minutes that morning, but she was sure everything had changed there, too. Nothing would ever be the same. 

As she walked into her room her gaze flitted to the camera again. This was wrong. Her privacy was being invaded. Khasinau hadn't told her _not_ to do anything to the cameras; he hadn't even told her there would _be_ cameras.

Suddenly, Sydney tore through the apartment and into the kitchen. Pulling and leaving open several drawers, she finally found a role of silver duct tape. She ran back through the rooms into her own and ripped off a strip of tape. It wouldn't tear. She clawed at it with hands and teeth in a frenzied panic. Dragging a desk chair into the middle of the room, she pressed the tattered strip over the shiny black surface.

Then she jumped down and put the chair back into its place. She quickly changed into exorcise shorts and a tank top that narrowed to a thin strip in the back, both the same shade of turquoise blue. She pulled jeans on over the shorts, and pulled on a loose white sweatshirt that said _NYC Girl_ in pink and purple letters.

She started out of her room and happened to look up. There, right above her door, was another shiny black dot. Setting her jaw, she went back into her room for the tape and soon had the second camera covered. She found a third above the front door. She covered that, too, and left the tape sitting decisively on the table by the front door.

* * *

Okay, that was kinda fluffy, but the first, second, and last scenes do have significance. May be it wasn't that fluffy, but it has a lot of fluffy stuff I normally wouldn't out in an alias fic, but that I have to put in this one to paint Syd as a teenager… 


	4. Go Rogue Or Turn Double

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 4: Go Rogue or Turn Double

Princess Box: According to , _spelt_ is cheifly a British thing and more of a pronunciation than a spelling. _Spelled_, however, bring up actual definitions. Yes, this is sad. My best friend and I actually spent about two months one year trying to convince our teacher that _stupider _is a word, hence _more stupid_ is incorrect grammer! lol. Hope you enjoy the rest of the fic, and I'll let this alone if you will!

* * *

Denosivich waited for Lina in the same training room they'd used the day before. He wanted to meet her the second she walked in the bank doors, to protect her from these people, but he knew by now what Khasinau wanted. He wanted to see if prospective agents could take the initiative and find their way to the training area on their own. 

So he waited. He broke into a wide grin when Lina walked in, clearly irritated and only ten minutes late. It took most agents fifteen.

"Sorry I'm _late_," she spit out fiercely. "But I had to navigate this maze alone, when I had very little clue where I was at."

"I do that to everyone," he said. "You made good time."

"Gee, thanks," she snarled.

Yep, this one had her mother's spirit, just as Khasinau said. He just hoped he could turn the _direction _of that spirit a little bit.

"You bring gym clothes?" he asked. "You can't keep doing this in jeans."

"I'm wearing them," she snapped, pulling off the sweatshirt. Then she slipped out of the jeans and turned to fold the clothes.

That's when Denosivich noticed the ugly bruises on her back. Her blue top reveal pretty clearly the extent of the damage. Yet she had shown up. He had to admire that.

He moved toward her, then gently clasped her arm to keep her from bolting.

"Your back looks awful," he said quietly. "I did that, didn't I."

Sydney froze when she felt his hand, and she didn't answer readily.

"Yes," she said finally. "But it's okay. It doesn't hurt much. I'm fine."

"It looks like it hurts," Denosivich said, guilt still heavy in his tone. HE hadn't meant to do any damage yesterday, just to show her who was in charge.

Sydney turned and smiled.

"Really, I'm okay." She pulled away. "Can we just get started? I want to get out of here as quick as I can. This place is creepy."

"Sure," Denosivich said. At least Lina didn't seem to be very gung-ho about this whole spy thing. May be he could still save her. "Take up your stance," he ordered, moving to the middle of the room.

Sydney did so nearly automatically. Denosivich landed a solid kick to her stomach, and she fell hard. Her back and shoulders felt like fire as she landed and tears welled in her eyes, but she blinked them back mercilessly. After a moment, her vision cleared and she saw the hand Denosivich offered. She grasped in and he pulled her to her feet.

"What did you do wrong?"

"What…you knocked me off-balance!" she protested.

"Exactly."

"Huh?"

"You let me get you off-balance. Never do that. That's rule number one. As long as you've got your balance, no matter how big your disadvantage, you have a chance. Take up your stance again."

Sydney did, and she knew Denosivich caught the wary gaze she threw his way.

"Move your left foot farther behind you. As long as I'm your only opponent, brace yourself against me." Denosivich demonstrated the correct stance, and she complied. "Now, get ready."

He launched a kick that connected before she could dodge, but she didn't fall this time. Instead, she countered unexpectedly, moving in close and drop-sweeping Denosivich's back foot out from under him--the foot all his weight rested on in his stance.

Denosivich regained his feet irritably.

"I didn't tell you to counter," he complained.

"So I'm just supposed to let you hit me?" she asked, one eyebrow raised. "Besides," She added, "I just proved the fault in _your _stance."

"I told you, I didn't expect you to counter," he repeated. Then he shook his head. "You're the daughter of a very prominent agent," he said angrily. "You could easily become a target now. You're here to learn to fight, not to fight me." He paced a few yards away, then sighed and spun back to face her. "Enough. We won't get anywhere with this." He walked to a corner and dragged out a stack of vault mats, like gymnasts practice with. Stacked three high, Denosivich turned back. "You'll kick this, _not_ me," he asserted, giving her a look. "_Besides_," he mocked. "Here I am taking it easy on a rookie, and you're taking advantage."

She just shrugged sheepishly.

"Sorry."

"I'm going to test you in hand to hand with Anna," he muttered. "Two weeks, tops, and you'll be up to her."

"Who's Anna?" Sydney asked.

"My other trainee," he replied. "She's eighteen, been doing defense training for six months."

"Six _months_?!?"

"You're a natural, she's not," he said dismissively. "You're quick, and you already have the basics. They just need some fine-tuning. You'll be ready."

"How can you be so sure?"

"You're a hellcat. She's a fireball. You two should be evenly matched," he laughed.

Anna Espinosa was the daughter of a Russian agent, too, just as was Lina. But Anna had come of her own free will, and knew exactly what she was doing. Denosivich didn't like Anna. But Lina had an air of innocence. Lina could still be an asset to her country, if he could help her. Oh, yeah, he saw the irony of matching Lina against Anna.

* * *

By the time Sydney got home that night, it was already dark. She got out of the city bus and jogged the last block home, then ran up the stairs. 

Her mother was home, finally. Sydney barely looked at her when she welcomed her home. She dropped her keys on the table by the door and angled her path toward the bathroom to take a shower. Something tugged at her subconscious, but she ignored it. She was beat; the only reason she'd run home was that she was sure she'd have fallen asleep walking.

She detoured momentarily to her room to get her nightshirt, and her gaze drifted up to where the camera should have been.

It was gone. All fatigue disappeared, replaced by near panic. The tape was gone, the ceiling looked as if it had never been touched. Moving silently, she checked the hall. The camera over her door was gone, too. She peeked into the entryway. Nothing there, either. _And no roll of duct tape on the table._

Sydney retreated to her room and sat on the edge of the bed. Had she dreamed it? There was no trace now.

She shook her head. No, the cameras had been there. Someone had removed them. Probably because they realized they'd been disabled. So they'd been _replaced_, not _removed_.

She looked around carefully, trying to identify any changed element. A hairclip she'd left on her bookcase was moved down a shelf. A tiny glass rose had been moved from in front of her black engraved picture frame. The frame had been angled differently.

That had to be it. The gracefully embossed metal frame was ornate; it would be the perfect place to hide a camera.

She rose and picked up the frame, going over every inch of the design. In one corner, there was a miniscule inconsistency. That had to be a camera. But if she covered it, they'd know she knew. She grinned.

Sydney set the frame back on the shelf, intentionally angling it so that the bastards watching her couldn't see her door or her bed. If they wanted to try to watch her every move, she could sure give them hell. It was like Khasinau thought she'd go rogue or something. May be he was. But then, why?

Defiantly now, Sydney snatched her nightshirt out of her drawer and went to take a shower.

This was getting ridiculous.

* * *

Khasinau frowned. It had amused him at first, these games, but Irina's daughter was beginning to get on his nerves. He'd had to deploy an agent that afternoon to replace the camera the girl had discovered. Now, consciously or not, she had found and made useless the camera in her room again. 

Khasinau doubted she had done so knowingly. The girl had only recently been introduced to spying at all. There was no way she had that much natural awareness.

He had been surprised by her simple unquestioning obedience. Sure, she didn't know what they were yet. But she'd just conformed.

Denosivich said she was a natural fighter. He'd cleared it to pit her against his Russian trainee, Anna Espinosa. Espinosa had been with them for a little over a year, but she'd had to be cleared first. By the time Angelina knew she was the daughter of a spy, she'd been cleared for six years.

Well, they could do without the one camera for now. There were five others in the apartment. Hopefully darling little Angelina wouldn't luck into any of those.

* * *

Denosivich wrote feverishly. He only had a few minutes; he couldn't be seen. He had a total of a five-minute window. 

Lina is progressing well. If she becomes a target I'm convinced she can at very least give them hell. I can't believe she knows what she's getting into. I'm inclined to do everything I can to get her out of the life before she gets far into it. I realize she could, if properly coached, turn double, but she'd only sixteen. There's no reason to shape her life for her like that. --Mockingbird 1132984

Denosivich crumpled the bag up and punched buttons on his cell phone simultaneously. Location 4. Then he ducked back into the bank before anyone realized he was gone.

* * *

What do you think? Where do you think this is going? I just want to see if my planned plot twist is as much of a twist as I think it is…if anybody really guesses it, I'll have to change it, just to be contrary! 


	5. As To The Validity

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 5: As To The Validity

* * *

"I want a report on Angelina's status."

Irina burst into Khasinau's office unannounced and clearly furious. Khasinau simply looked at her, completely unmoved.

"Don't look at me like that! I've heard the rumors! You can't have her in here four days a week! That's too much!" Irina ranted precisely.

"I only planned on three," Khasinau said. "But then I was sure we'd have to relay and re-teach groundwork. Denosivich assures me this is not the case. I've approved a match between Angelina and Anna next Friday."

Irina's already angry face hardened until a more wary man would have seen the smoke threatening to come out her ears.

"Espinosa has been training for six months! Until you dragged _Angelina_," she said with customary emphasis, "Into this agency, Espinosa was talked of as the most promising trainee we had."

"Promising because of a certain haughty self-assurance that will make her unstoppable some day," Khasinau said slowly. "But she's not a natural fighter."

"I want to see her report," Irina said, backtracking to her original statement.

"No."

Khasinau turned back to his work, a clear and final dismissal.

Irina used all of her available will power to avoid strangling the man where he sat. Sure, they'd been involved before he'd assigned her to Jack Bristow, but she'd changed during those years, and now she couldn't see what it was about Khasinau that had ever attracted her.

* * *

They'd only been home five minutes when the phone rang. Jeffrey picked it up and was mildly surprised to hear Sydney's voice.

"Syd? Are you okay?" he asked.

"I'm fine," she assured quickly.

But she wasn't. It sounded like she strained to keep her voice light and carefree. Jeffrey didn't say anything, though. Sydney knew he was there if she wanted to talk.

He realized he'd been too quick to suspect she was keeping secrets as she uttered their secret phrase as they hung up. They'd always talked on the phone before, so it hadn't occurred to him that they couldn't now.

Sydney was already in the basement by the time Jeffrey got there. She must have either used the light blue cell phone sitting beside her on top of the washer, or she moved damn fast.

They Jeffrey noticed that she looked nervous, edgy, despite her seemingly relaxed demeanor.

"What's wrong?" he asked quietly, gracefully hopping up next to her in the line of washers.

"My phone is tapped," she said miserably, looking straight ahead. Her eyes hadn't moved once since he'd walked in.

"What?!?"

"My phone is tapped. My cell phone, too," she repeated resignedly. "There are cameras in my home. In my room." She turned her head, and only her head, to look at Jeffrey. "Denosivich keeps saying things that just sound ominous. Like he knows something is wrong, and he's trying to warn me."

"They're…what?!? That…all that doesn't sound like the government. If they're just protecting you, why not tell you? This is crazy."

Jeffrey stopped, deep in thought. When Sydney didn't say anything else, he continued.

"Sydney, none of this makes sense. You're sixteen, you're not even working for them yet, you can't even fight very good yet. Your mother is a spy, for Christ's' sakes. What do _they _need to watch you for?"

"Unless…" Sydney trailed off and shook her head, unwilling to voice her thought.

"Unless they aren't really CIA," Jeffrey finished for her pointedly.

"No. I mean, all this seems horrible, but then there's Agent Denosivich," Sydney argued. "He's just…he seems _real_."

"But you say he's warning you."

"Intelligence is a dangerous profession," Sydney said, talking herself out of believing anything was wrong. "He's probably just trying to get me to stay out."

Jeffrey shook his head.

"I don't think so, Syd. I think this KGB is hiding something."

* * *

I think the KGB is hiding something.

The words pounded through her mind as she stepped onto the elevator, growing louder as she pressed buttons to take her to the basement.

…hiding something…something…

The words echoed, overlapped each other, became an overwhelming murmur of voices.

Her heart thudded in her chest, her breathing was too fast.

Sydney closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Jeffrey's words had haunted her for a full day, ever since he'd spoken them, then abruptly left her alone in the basement. After a long moment, she finally felt stable enough to face her handler.

Denosivich was waiting for her as usual when she came into the training room. He worked her hard, as he always did, demanding more from her than she could of herself.

"What do you want form me?" Sydney finally gasped from her position on the mat where Denosivich had thrown her. "I can't _do _that move!"

"You can!" Denosivich yelled back. "You can and you will! You don't always get another chance and when the time comes you have to be ready!"

Sydney stared furiously at him, but her fury soon abated, replaced by a quiet curiosity.

"Why are you trying so hard? I know you don't want me here," she said softly.

For a split second, Denosivich considered telling her everything, and to run far far away, where they couldn't reach her. But he couldn't, and eh knew that.

"I just want you to be ready, Lina," he said softly, offering his hand.

Nothing could have sounded more ominous to Sydney.

* * *

Denosivich was left very unsure about what actions to take. Lina had seemed extremely suspicious, but she'd shown a history of very little restraint. If she was suspicious of him, he was pretty sure he'd know of it without a doubt.

She had reveal she knew he didn't want her there. She was either more perceptive that he'd realized, or he was slipping, letting his guard down around her like some rookie.

Denosivich sighed and paced around the training room he'd yet to leave, even though Lina had been gone for an hour. There were only two more sessions before Lina would face Anna. He had no doubt that Lina would be ready; that wasn't what worried him. There was some quality about Anna that he himself saw…would Lina sense it? If Lina decided Denosivich's second trainee was a bad person, would that be the clencher in her mind as to the validity of the organization? And more importantly, would Lina Derevko continue to trust a man she believed to be part of the very agency she no longer believed in?

* * *

Review, please! 


	6. That Cold Circle

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 6: That Cold Circle

* * *

The next day, Sydney was glad to realize she didn't have to go in to work with Agent Denosivich. She called up Jessie, and they talked for hours, like they used to do. Sydney was so happy to see that the KGB hadn't taken her _whole _life away that she almost didn't even mind when Jessie brought up the "karate" classes. 

"I just don't know why you keep at this fighting thing. You don't have to do this just because your mom wants you to. It just doesn't work that way. I think there's even something in the Constitution somewhere. You're an American; you've got rights," Jessie proclaimed in her usual exuberant manner.

"I know, Jessie. I know," Sydney said despondently. "I just don't see any way around it. I just have to do it."

Sydney never gave Jessie's speech a second thought. Too bad Khasinau's goons did.

"…You're an American! You've got rights!" Jessie's tinny voice sounded from a tape player on Khasinau's desk barely ten minutes after the words had been spoken.

As the tape fell off into silence, a surly man in his mid-forties stepped forward and pressed STOP.

Security sector believes this girl, Jessica Marie Presley, had been the recipient of leaked information," the man said. "Although we can't be sure. Angelina Derevko is one lucky girl; she keeps escaping, by pure strokes of luck, our tails and our wiretaps. She could have called Presley any one of the times we've lost feed."

Khasinau silently considered his options and the risks, staring at his department head's face as he did so. Finally, he nodded once.

"She'll have to be taken care of, Gagarin."

* * *

Sydney emerged from the city bus two blocks from her apartment and jogged the rest of the way, hoping to clear her head. She'd been training on three weeks, and Agent Denosivich wanted her to match against Anna Espinosa. She was freaking out. She was seriously freaking _out_. 

I don't care what he says, she thought hysterically. _I can't do this. I can't…I can't…_

she thought hysterically. 

Yet, thirty minutes later, Sydney found herself in the elevator on her way to the basement. A strange calm came over her somewhere along the way, and she'd all but forgotten the panic attack earlier.

Denosivich and Espinosa were already there in the training room when Sydney walked in. she made a vague excuse about school and saw Anna smirk.

"_This_ is my competition?" Anna cracked, crossing her arms.

Denosivich frowned, but said nothing. He'd apparently dubbed the effort futile.

"Look, here's the rules," he said instead. "No holds barred, but don't kick, hit, or otherwise attack anyone when they're down. Follow my orders when I give them, or I jump in." Denosivich gave them each a warning look. "And you do _not_ want me to have to break it up."

Anna snarled her nose at Denosivich, and Sydney immediately decided she didn't like this girl. Denosivich had spoken highly of Anna's ability, but not of her character, Sydney realized.

"Fine," Sydney responded when it became obvious Denosivich waited for an answer, all her attention focused entirely on Anna now.

"Anna?" Denosivich prompted.

"Fine," she finally said.

Denosivich stepped back, and Sydney and Anna started circling each other, their eyes locked and appraising. Time slowed to a crawl, and every move became significant.

Then Anna rushed in, low and hard and fully arrogant. Sydney was caught off guard, mid-step, and she and Anna hit the floor. Anna fought mean, and almost downright dirty.

Sydney's code of ethics lasted only a few moments and two considerable blows to the stomach. May be that was what Denosivich had planned all along. Sydney fought like the hellcat Denosivich had called her. Anna pinned her. She got loose. She pinned Anna. Anna kicked and bucked her way out of it. They circled, struggled, wrestled, kick, swung, punched, elbowed, anything that gave the other a moment of pause.

Suddenly, Anna's hand connected with Sydney's head and the girl's image swan before her eyes. The next thing Sydney knew she was flat on the floor, barely able to move. Anna's eyes glared down at her triumphantly, and her hands rested close enough to Sydney's neck to slightly hinder breathing.

Something in Sydney snapped; if anyone had asked, Sydney would have sworn she felt it. This was no longer a friendly match. Never had been. This was a fight for survival, for superiority.

Using all of her strength, Sydney bucked to loosen Anna's grip on her, then she swung her leg up before Anna could recover. Her foot caught Anna in the side of the head.

For one brief moment, the triumph in Anna's eyes slipped into hatred, and then she slumped to the floor.

"Oh my God oh my God oh my God!" Sydney gasped, shooting to her feet despite the fact that her head was still spinning. "Is she okay?!?"

Denosivich just chuckled.

"She's fine. Or will be when she wakes up." His bright eyes danced, and Sydney realized that he really hated her. "Wow, but she's going to hate you. You did worse than win, Lina. You severely bruised her pride!"

Sydney looked confused, then she smiled, too. Not because she's knocked Anna out, that part still made her a little sick. It was the _rush_, the _thrill_, the _excitement_. For the first time since Laura Bristow had told her daughter she was another person, she felt like she could _be _Lina Derevko. She could be a kick-ass spy like everybody said Irina Derevko was.

Sydney Bristow could be Lina Derevko.

* * *

Even as Sydney was rejoicing in her newly discovered power, her best friend was loosing everything. 

Jessie was home alone, her parents having gone to a dinner party at her dad's office. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a pony tail that bounced gaily as she settled onto her flower covered bedspread, her homework and three text books scattered around her. She took a purple ink pen out of her book bag and happened to turn her head toward her doorway.

A man stood there, a gun held down to his side.

Fear contorted her lovely face, and a scream ripped from her throat, only to be muffled by a rough hand. Frantic, Jessie bit down hard.

A rough curse was spit in her ear, followed by the cold press of a gun against her temple. Even amidst all of her sophisticated New York airs, the sensation paralyzed her. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't see the white walls any more. She didn't care that her struggle ripped and tore pages from her books and mussed her perfect bed. She could only feel that cold circle on her temple. She felt nothing, she saw nothing, she heard nothing but that gun.

When the man clicked the safety off of the gun and the hammer slid back, Jessica Presley was sure her eardrums would burst.

And then it was over, and red mingled with the bright colors, and she knew nothing.

* * *

Please don't shoot me! Remember, I didn't kill Jeffrey _or_ Denosivich! That's all you asked of me! 


	7. Broken Perfection

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 7: Broken Perfection

* * *

They have now done the deed that will either cement Lina into the organization or force her to doubt even her own sense of right and wrong. Khasinau had a friend of Lina's assassinated because they believe she was the source of a leak. I wasn't informed of their intentions until it was to late to stop it, and this, I fear, will be the turning point for Lina. I may be required to reveal myself to her to halt her doing something stupid. --mockingbird 1132984

* * *

The two days after the murder of Jessica Presley passed in a haze for her closest friends. Sydney went to school, but she heard and saw no one. She was encased in her own world of pain and confusion and hurt. Not even Jeffrey could bring her out of it, and he knew much of the same besides.

The first crack in Sydney's self-induced stupor came when she arrived at the grave-side service and saw the pristine white casket, broken in its perfection only by elegant gold trimming, closed to any grieving onlookers.

She and Jeffrey sat in the front row of chairs that had been set up, near Jessie's parents. Throughout the service, Sydney twisted a long-stemmed red rose between her fingers. At one point, Jeffrey reached over and held one of her hands, and she realized she was sobbing, and tears dripped unheeded down Jeffrey's face as well. Sydney only gave his hand a weak squeeze, reassuring him that she was there and going through the same pain he was. She continued to mindlessly twirl the rose in one hand.

When the speaker concluded his eulogy, Jessie's parents both rose and went together to place a pair of white roses on top of the coffin. Sydney meant to follow them, but she couldn't. the crowd had thinned considerably and the undertakers had already begun to lower the coffin in to the earth before she could move.

The coffin had already slipped below ground level when she stepped up and tossed the rose down, where it came to rest across the two white ones before Sydney spun and walked quickly away.

Sydney realized later that she had an impression of a beautiful service, but nothing more than a still image of a white and gold coffin could ever be called up in her memory.

* * *

Sydney came obediently to a session the day after Jessie's funeral, and what Denosivich saw scared him. Lina's usual innocence of demeanor had been underscored by a quiet determination, as if she were ready to throw herself into fighting in order to protect her heart.

Saying no more than necessary, Denosivich ordered Lina into the center of the room. His concern for her state of mind only increased when, at the end of two hours, she had said fewer than three words. Even worse, she executed her moves with such fierce precision that she threw Denosivich three times before he knew what was happening.

"All right. You can go," he grunted after the third time, when he'd landed hard and to one side of his body, giving him a decided limp when he stood. He expected her to stalk wordlessly across the room, grab her stuff, and leave, but Lina held her ground. After a long moment, Denosivich straightened and met her gaze.

"I need to talk to you," she said hoarsely, a new type of few in her voice. "Not now. Later."

Agent Denosivich studied Lina's face for a long moment. He realized this was the moment of decision: would his intervention push her closer, or would it pull her back from the brink in the nick of time?

Denosivich pulled a notepad out and wrote a time and a place down and handed it to her wordlessly.

Not even looking at it, Lina folded the paper in half and tucked it into the waistband of her shorts. Then she pulled on her jeans and customary sweatshirt and left silently.

* * *

"I heard the tape. Jessica Presley knew noting about this agency," Irina said, her voice dangerously low.

"You are the one that alerted me to Angelina's instinctive loyalty to the United States," Khasinau replied. "I'm not sure I trust her now."

"My daughter just lost her best friend," Irina argued. "But she was here today. How can you question her loyalty now?"

"She's not happy here."

"She's not _happy_," Irina corrected.

"I will tolerate her strange behavior for only so long."

"Her behavior," Irina began, standing. "Is not so strange for a child so recently stripped of her romanticized view of the world."

Without looking back, Irina walked out of the office, slamming the door behind her like a shot.

* * *

The harbor, the note had said. Sydney had long since destroyed it. Her time window was between one and two AM that same night, and she had to meet him by the ferry, as if they were two strangers waiting for the late--or early, depending on how you looked at it--boat to Manhattan.

Agent Denosivich was waiting as impatiently as anybody really waiting for the ferry, and his thoughts were not calming. Lina was still just a child. She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. He'd seen it in her eyes. She didn't even want to learn to fight until her friend was killed. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

As she approached, Denosivich looked away, leaning against the nearby railing and looking across the harbor. Lina followed his lead, leaning her elbows on the top rail and resting her head in her hands.

"Where you tailed? Any chance?" Denosivich asked, keeping his voice conversational.

"I doubt it," she said disdainfully. "I found a camera in my room. Another one," she corrected. "A _third _one. This one was in a book. _My _book. I acted like I was reading it, then I left it in the kitchen. I snuck out my bedroom window."

"Wait…don't you live on the third floor?"

"There's a streetlight outside my window." She shrugged. "I jumped and shimmied down the pole."

"You're lucky you didn't fall and break your neck. What about these cameras?"

"The first three were around the apartment in the ceiling. I freaked and covered them with duct tape. When I got home, they were gone, they were gone. Then I found one in a picture frame in my room. I turned it away from my door, so they couldn't really watch me too well. Then I found the one in the book."

She looked over at Denosivich for the first time. Did he believe her, or did he think she was paranoid? He looked fearful, she realized, resigned.

He studied her just as intensely. Did she suspect he'd known all along about the cameras, and so many other unknown dangers…that he knew about her friend's murder?

Finally, Sydney decided for him.

"Tell me the truth," she said simply.

Denosivich didn't flinch, but he didn't respond, either. Sydney had begun to think he hadn't heard her before he spoke.

"I can't," he said. "Not now. Let me talk to some people, Lina, and I'll do what I can."

Sydney pushed away from the railing and stood tall, unmoved.

"Khasinau killed Jessie," she said in a low, firm voice. "I know he did. I want to know why. You'll tell me why," she demanded, the tears Denosivich couldn't see in her eyes not reflected in her voice.

Denosivich nodded slowly.

"You won't believe me, Lina. Let me make some arrangements. Until then, this conversation never happened."

He was gone before Sydney could argue.

* * *


	8. The GreenEyed Suit

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 8: The Green-Eyed Suit

* * *

Denosivich walked the park for an hour after he met Lina, until he was sure he'd lost all tails again. Then he began to write, his mind still reeling.

Lina Derevko is suspicious. Khasinau murdered her friend. It's all just too convenient--she knows something is wrong. She approached me about it. I have promised to do what I can. I want to bring her to the CIA. To tell her the truth. Her innocence is real, but she won't believe me alone. Not now. --mockingbird 1132984

* * *

After she saw Denosivich, Sydney called Jeffrey. Their conversation was short, then "Catch you later."

Sydney used her cell phone to call him two blocks from her apartment house. Then she turned her phone off and jogged, hoping to beat Khasinau's goons--that was how she'd begun to think about the invisible force ruling her life--home. And as far as she could tell, she did.

Jeffrey was waiting when she burst into the basement, clearly worried.

"You just came from outside," he accused in a whisper. "It's two AM. Where have you been?"

Sydney hadn't talked to Jeffrey since the night Jessie had been killed. They'd seen each other, of course, but in that far off, otherworldly kind of way that hadn't promoted much speech.

"Never mind that," she said, also whispering. "We can't meet like this any more, Jeffrey. I can't tell you anything else."

"Syd, what are you…"

"No, just wait. They killed Jessie, Jeffrey." Tears filled her eyes. "I don't know why, but they did. I never know when they're listening."

"But Syd, you never told Jessie." Understanding brightened his eyes, and made the tears clinging in the corners of his eyes even clearer. "You never told her anything, and they got her anyway. That means nobody is safe. Syd, you have to get out of this. Something isn't right."

Sydney nodded.

"I know. But there's one person I trust. I told him I knew about Jessie, and he nearly promised me the truth."

"But if he's part of them, you can't trust him!"

Sydney shook her head slowly.

"No, I trust him. He doesn't believe in the rest of them any more than I do."

* * *

The young man from the CIA strolled easily through the park, in no hurry to catch up to the man in front of him. The couple of years he'd spent with the CIA had already taught him patience was a virtue, as cliché as that sounded.

His green eyes were hidden behind shades. That was the easiest feature a person could recognize about him, his eyes. Other than that, he hadn't drawn enough attention to himself yet. That was why he'd been selected as the contact. He stood very little chance of being recognized as CIA.

Finally, Denosivich slowed his pace and suddenly turned to face his green-eyed tail.

"Might I ask why you've been following me?" Denosivich asked pointedly.

"Sure can," he replied, grinning. "Saves me the trouble of small talk."

Denosivich frowned, so the man pulled out CIA identification. _Michael Vaughn_, it said.

"Very nice, Agent Vaughn," Denosivich said. "Now, cut to the chase. Every second we talk, I risk exposure."

"The director has approved your request for a meeting with the Derevko child," Vaughn said simply.

"Protocol?"

"You meet Lina Derevko at a location of your choice and bring her to safe house 7594. The director, myself, and two other agents in addition to yourself will be there to corroborate the information. We'll also supply her with a discreet wireless bug killer."

"This meeting will have to be late for Lina to sneak out. Irina Derevko is undoubtedly loyal to the KGB," Denosivich said.

"Midnight, then?"

* * *

Denosivich stood outside the reach of the street lights for several long moments before deciding he had no choice; he'd have to go in the door. While it was fine for Lina to come _down_ the light pole, there was no way for him to get _up _it.

He pulled out what he jokingly called his magic pen--a bug killer that would take out any bug in a five mile radius disguised as a pen--and uncapped it, activating it as he entered the front door.

Denosivich snuck up the stairs, paused to pick the lock of the correct apartment's door, and navigated to Lina's room by his knowledge of the location of the streetlight. He moved to her bedside and laid a hand on her shoulder.

Lina bolted upright and he quickly fit his hand over her mouth to stifle her scream.

"It's me, Lina. Don't scream." He moved to where she could see him. "Get dressed, and come with me."

"But…cameras…" she protested sleepily.

"Don't worry about them. Hurry." He moved into the hall and shut the door.

Sydney followed Denosivich quickly and silently after tugging on a pair of jeans and a hooded gray sweatshirt.

As they climbed into Denosivich's car, it occurred to Sydney that she didn't trust the KGB. A KGB agent had broken into her home in the middle of the night. What in the _hell_ was she doing in his car?

"What did you do to the cameras?"

Denosivich pulled out a pen from his pocket and tossed it to her. She looked at it a moment.

"I don't get it."

"It's a bug killer," Denosivich said. "It scrambles the signals, makes them useless."

"Oh," she said simply.

They drove for a while, then Denosivich pulled up in front of a cozy little house in the suburbs. The grass was overgrown, as if no one lived there, and the shutters on two of the windows were crooked. Denosivich pulled carefully into the garage, the rusty old door of which opened surprisingly smoothly.

"What are we doing here?" Sydney asked, surprised at the lack of fear that she felt.

"This is a CIA safe house," Denosivich said softly. "I promised I'd tell you the truth, and I will."

They walked into the kitchen through the garage door and on into the living room, where a tall, authorities man and three suits stood. The lights were dim, but Sydney saw the green eyes of one of the men, and a small smile crept across her face. For a brief moment, their eyes met and a smile started on his face, but only one side of his mouth tilted up in a cute little grin.

The man that appeared to be in charge spoke and broke the spell.

"I understand you're suspicious of the agency your mother works for," he said. "I'm the director of the CIA, dear. And I, along with these three and Denosivich, are here to explain to you the complicated situation in which you find yourself."

Sydney shook her head.

"I just want to know about Jessie."

Denosivich jumped in with a bold warning glance at the director.

"Jessie was killed because Khasinau needed to make sure you'd keep your mouth shut," he said quickly. "And, lucky for you and for us, it backfired."

Tears filled her eyes, but she set her jaw and bit them back.

"But you have to know everything now. You can't know that without knowing the rest."

Sydney nodded reluctantly.

"The KGB," Suit Two began. "Is a Russian terrorist organization. Denosivich is a double agent, a CIA spy inside the KGB."

"My mother…" Sydney began.

"Your mother," Suit One said. "Irina Derevko is a Russian spy.

Silence pervaded the room, until Vaughn couldn't stand it any more. The girl's tears affected him; he couldn't help it.

"We're all very sorry that you've been put in this position, Lina," the Green-eyed Suit said.

Sydney blinked, as if it had just occurred to her that they knew lies as truth too. She shook her head.

"My name isn't Lina. It's Sydney. Sydney Bristow. Lina is just the name I use at the KGB."

Bristow. Jack Bristow's kid? Vaughn wondered.

The director didn't react, he just pulled a silver locket from his pocket.

"Well, Sydney, I have something for you. Did Denosivich tell you about his pen?"

Sydney nodded.

"Well, this locket is like his pen. Inside, there's a switch. Tech guys' best work. This has a two mile range."

"Be careful about using it," Vaughn advised. "KGB will get suspicious if you just happen to disappear every time their surveillance is down, if you use it too often."

As Denosivich led her out half an hour later, Sydney couldn't help but look back at the Green-eyed Suit. She hadn't even gotten his name, and she'd probably never see him again.

Denosivich nearly erased the Green-eyed Suit from Sydney mind as he drove her home. They'd ridden in silence for ten minutes before he spoke.

"You only have two choices now, Lina…Sydney," he said carefully. "You're in too deep already. You can either train to be a double-agent, or leave entirely. Witness protection, or something. Your mother is dangerous, Sydney."

* * *

I know you guys are gonna hate me, but I'm going to tell you now that there are only three more chapters after this one, and they're shorter than usual. But the good news is, I'm writing a sequal! I'm going to bring in our beloved Green-eyedSuit, and more Sydney spy action, so I think ya'll will love it!


	9. Marching Orders

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 9: Marching Orders

A/N: For the last time, people: I love ya'll and everything, but Denosivich is absolutely positively NOT Sark-like! Not good Sark, not bad Sark, there is no Sark element in this fic! (Okay, I just had to get my little rant out...let's all think happy thoughts now...)

A/N: And for the person that reviewed as mrs. michael vaughn, I am so disappointed in you. The name you reviewed under really gave me more faith in you than this...the Green-eyed Suit is _supposed _to be a _familiar _character! _Think_ about that for a moment, please! And to clear up any other misconceptions, the Green-eyed Suit would be, at this point, about twenty-five-ish.

A/N: Only one more, I swear! Crates: Okay, so he is a little young, theoretically, but I wanted to put him in here, so the CIA and the United States government will just have to deal with our rookie agent, okay?!?!? lol. I appreciate your point, there's just nothing I can (or will, rather) do about it.

* * *

It was a couple of weeks before Sydney sorted the new information--and the new rules--out for herself enough that she dared talk to Jeffrey. During that time, she had seven training sessions, and to her surprise, the new power she felt in Lina didn't disappear, but continued to grow. Sydney began to see that natural talent Denosivich had claimed she possessed, after all, and she learned the art quickly. 

Denosivich never pressed her about their meeting, and he never requested an answer. Only once did he remind her that his coworkers awaited her decision, and he'd do what he could to find out the answers to any questions she had.

Sydney realized her psyche was due some trauma either way she went. Denosivich didn't need to remind her of that. One way, and she had to lie to her mother forever; the other, she had to leave her mother forever.

Once, though, she had mentioned her father's death--she couldn't remember later the context in which she'd said it--and Denosivich's reaction had been instinctive. But he'd held it in check.

Sydney had registered that his expression was strange, but she didn't ask.

Finally, she surrendered to the inevitable and clutched at her locket as she returned from a session. She activated it before she ever entered the building and called Jeffrey from her cell phone. He practically sprinted down the stairs in his thirst for news of Sydney's secret life; the last he knew, her handler had promised the truth about Jessie.

He stopped feet away from Sydney and looked around to as if he expected to see microphones poking out form the walls.

"Is it safe?" he asked.

Sydney nodded; there was no reason to explain the locket to him.

"We don't have to worry," she promised.

"Good," Jeffrey sighed, climbing up next to her. "Are you okay? Did you find out about Jess?" His voice cracked just a little on his friend's name.

"I found out," Sydney said bitterly. "And a lot else with it."

Leaving out her connected feeling to the Green-eyed Suit, she told him about that night and what she'd learned. She told him about the necklace after all, and about her mother, and about Denosivich. She ended by shaking her head.

"I just feel like I can't do this much longer. I love my mother. But I hate Irina Derevko. It's like two different people. She even has this accent as Derevko, and I don't even know if it's real or not. I just want to go away, but they'd find me. The scariest part is, I know I can be what Lina Derevko is supposed to be. I could be a double agent, but I'm not sure I'd rather do that than just disappear. No more Sydney Bristow, no more Lina Derevko."

* * *

Jack Bristow walked into the New York City field office with an air of supreme confidence. He'd put in for the transfer as soon as they'd touched tentatively on Irina Derevko's position there. He'd known for years that Irina Derevko and Laura Bristow were the same woman, but he'd felt that was his own business, and was the only thing he'd ever kept from the CIA. 

In the years before that discovery, he'd often wondered why his beloved daughter hadn't written or called or something. Laura had been bitter over the divorce, he'd thought, but surely she hadn't turned his Sydney against him?

But now he'd found his girl, after eight years. Did she even know he was CIA? Would she even look for him, or had Irina Derevko poisoned her mind against him?

Jack Bristow was no doubt a hardened CIA man with no connections, but that wasn't because he wasn't open to them. Well, he amended, may be he was, but if he could just get his little girl back, everything could be all right again.

Suddenly he realized the man walking through the bullpen style office space was heading for him. He'd read up on some of the top agents in this branch of the CIA. His visitor was none other than Calvin Denosivich, double agent in the KGB. What could the man want, unless…Surely the woman he'd once known as Laura Bristow hadn't brought Sydney into the KGB? Or may be they'd made the connection between Irina Derevko and Laura Bristow?

Denosovich soon cleared up those questions with very definite answers.

"Jack Bristow?"

"Calvin Denosivich?"

The two shook hands hurriedly.

"Agent Bristow, I'm here against all advice because I have intel I believe you have a right to. Your daughter…"

"Yes?"

"She's believed you were dead."

"She…what? Oh, God, I have to find her. I have to tell her she has a choice…" Jack said.

"I also must caution you, sir, that if you do so, you blow your ex-wife's cover, risk mine, and risk your daughter's life," Denosivich warned with respectful impudence.

Then Calvin Denosivich turned on his heel to slip back out of the building he so rarely entered, leaving Jack Bristow to sort out the fact that his daughter thought he was dead, his ex-wife was a spy, and a junior agent had just given _him_ his marching orders.

* * *


	10. Future Position

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 10: Future Position

* * *

Sydney sat in her lit class, still unable to really focus on the class with Jessie's seat sitting empty. Even then, she toyed absently with the chain of the heart shaped locket. She heard the teacher lecturing, she just wasn't very likely to remember any of it later.

"The idea of the passage is that the family bond was still as strong as ever, even though the narrator knows his sister is a criminal. He recognizes a moral obligation, but also a familial obligation to his sister."

That was all Sydney heard before her thoughts trailed to her mother. She knew she loved Laura Bristow. Laura Bristow had never showed her anything but motherly love.

But in the same was, she hated Irina Derevko. Irina Derevko was a mean, thoughtless person, incapable of any human emotion. Like another person entirely.

After a while of see-sawing back and forth like that, between Laura Bristow and Irina Derevko, Sydney shook her head at herself and leaned back with a sigh. She was going to have to reconcile these two women into one body, or she was going to have serious issues.

Sydney faked, dodged a kick, and threw one of her own. Her opponent lost his footing and she drop swept his feet the rest of the way out form under him.

"Okay. You can go."

Denosivich got to his feet slowly.

Sydney grinned, then grew sober. She tugged her locket from under her shirt and activated it. Denosivich glanced at her, then turned and waited.

"I've made up my mind," she said softly and quickly. "I want to see the director and to make my decision known."

"Why wait?" Denosivich asked carefully.

"Because I don't know I could explain it the same way twice."

She backed away a couple paces, then let Denosivich see her release the trigger on the bug-killer. She grabbed her stuff and left silently, as had become her custom.

She knew Denosivich would make arrangements. He had little choice anyway. He saw the Lina Derevko--the disillusioned spy--coming out in Sydney Bristow--the lost sixteen-year-old girl--more and more.

* * *

Denosivich had not expected to feel the sense of anticipation he experienced as he drove toward the safe house. He'd become too involved, he knew; he was too wrapped up in what happened to one sixteen-year-old girl.

Yet, there he was, as anxious as to her decision as if he was her father.

Sydney watched again as the rusty garage door opened soundlessly, and followed Denosivich into the living room. She possessed now a certain resolve, having usurped the confidence of Lina to use as Sydney. So, while Denosivich fretted and worried, Sydney was calm and confident.

She was even a little disappointed to find only the director inside, and she realized she'd been hoping the Green-eyed Suit would be there too.

The atmosphere of the room was hushed and solemn, but that didn't dissuade Sydney at all.

"You've come to a decision about what to do about your current position?" the director asked.

"Yes."

"Let's hear it."

Sydney inhaled a deep breath, showing the first sign of weakness since she'd arrived.

"I'm already in place inside the KGB, the daughter of one of their most trusted agents. My future position could hold invaluable opportunities for the CIA. I hate it now, and I will hate it every second that I have to lie to people I love, but I can't walk away and pretend I don't know the KGB exists, that the threat it presents isn't real to me. If nothing else, they killed my friend. If I can help take them down, then may be the fact that her death is ultimately my fault won't haunt me. I want to be a double agent."

She had barely concluded her speech when none other than Jack Bristow burst through a door to her left, shattering the quiet.

"Daddy?!?" Sydney gasped, gaping at him. "But you're dead!"

Jack shook his head vigorously.

"I'm not. Your mother lied to you, Sydney. She took you away before I could stop her."

"But…what are you…"

"Don't you see, Sydney? I can take you away from all this. You have choices, you don't have to be an agent!"

As Sydney realized he'd moved steadily closer so that he now stood nearly on top of her, she tensed, then took a definite step backward.

"I can't do what you're asking, Daddy. It's too late. I have to do this now."

Jack was speechless for an instant, and in that crack in time Denosivich started propelling Sydney toward the door, assuring the director that he'd handle the details with a short nod over his shoulder. For now, it was best to get Sydney away from Jack Bristow.

They drove around aimlessly for over an hour as Denosivich explained everything from protocol for a double agent to Jack Bristow's frantic appearance. When Denosivich finally dropped her off behind her building, Sydney's head was reeling so that she never knew how she made it up the stairs to fall into bed.

* * *


	11. Epilogue

Alternate Existence

She was just sixteen. She never wanted this. She never wanted any of it. She didn't want to be an agent. She didn't want to even learn to fight. And most of all, she didn't want to learn her mother was a foreign spy.

Chapter 11: Epilogue

* * *

Months flew by monotonously, as Sydney w as coached and molded into the perfect Lina Derevko. Her mother saw the changes in her daughter as she was introduced to more and more of the organization, and she grieved it. But there was nothing she could do now.

Khasinau, however, was pleased by the changes. By seventeen, Sydney had learned enough Russian to not only converse in it, but to keep up with Khasinau himself when he spoke rapidly in anger or frustration. She had started on two other languages as well. Khasinau himself called her in for a briefing one two months before her eighteenth birthday, a previously rare event.

"You are ready, Angelina," Khasinau said in Russian. "I have a mission for you."

Sydney's heart beat a little faster, but she made no outward show of anxiety. All outward shows of emotions had long since been trained out of her. Even Jeffrey had noticed.

"Yes, sir?" she replied calmly in her mother's native tongue.

"I want you to go to Spain. Madrid, actually. You're to locate and report on the head of a rogue group planning to overthrow the Spanish government. The group could be a serious threat to all of Europe. Simple reconnaissance is all."

"Yes, sir," Sydney replied calmly, taking the maroon folder he handed her with a steady hand and an outward show of bold confidence.

Her CIA counter mission was only to report the target and any information on him she acquired back to them so that they could determine what the KGB is planning.

Her mission was successful, as was the next, and the next. By the time she was nineteen, she was a high-ranking officer, inside Khasinau's most intimate circle of agents. He'd reveal to her their true affiliations, and she had managed an ironic smirk.

"I've known your secret for months, Mr. Khasinau," she'd said, never having abandoned addressing him that way. "I'm still not as naïve as I once was. I'm still here, aren't I?"

* * *

I hate my life sometimes, but even now al I have to do is think of Jessie, and my sight of the purpose is restored. We will_ take down the KGB some day, Denosivich and I. He's been my handler for three years now, but the director has finally decided they should risk giving me a real handler, directly from the CIA. Agent Kendall. He seems to be high up. _

My father finally decided he hates New York enough to transfer back to LA. Even after three years, he and I are nowhere near the plane we were on when I was a child. We never will be, and we're finally both resigned to that.

I miss Jeffrey. He's gone off to college, and he knows we can't risk writing anything important, nor can we call. As soon as this God damned agency is history, I'm just going to show up on his doorstep. But that could be years.

* * *

willThe End 


End file.
